


Two out of Three (Ain’t Bad)

by orphan_account



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Humor, Implied Harry/Draco - Freeform, M/M, Not Epilogue Compliant, Post Hogwarts: Early-Mid 2000s
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-14
Updated: 2018-03-14
Packaged: 2019-03-31 04:24:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13967274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: When Ron is in need of a date to the National Quidditch League’s summer gala, Blaise knows just the person.





	Two out of Three (Ain’t Bad)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Novaa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Novaa/gifts).



> Written for a rarepair exchange. Hope you enjoy, Nova! 
> 
> Huge thanks to jeni_andtheafterthought for the beta and encouragement! *muscle emoji*

It was too hot for an argument. He’d retreated to his favorite childhood hiding spot - a hole carved out in the roots of a large oak tree just beyond the Burrow’s back garden. But it wasn’t enough. Ginny found him.

“You told me you were coming to the gala tonight.”

Ron looked up at her, shielding his eyes to block out the sun so he could gauge the expression on his sister’s face. She didn’t look particularly bothered. More amused than anything, really. That couldn’t be good for him.

“Changed my mind. Harry dropped out,” he said, hoping this would be the end of it, but knowing damn well that it wouldn’t be.

“I know. Harry was kind enough to tell me.” Ginny inspected a small stain near the hem of her yellow sundress. “You, on the other hand, aren’t getting out of this so easily.”

Ron scoffed. “I’m bloody fucking well not going alone.”

“And I’m not making you go alone,” said Ginny, narrowing her eyes. “Blaise says he knows someone from work he can set you up with.”

“‘Set up’? No thanks. I’ll sit this one out.” 

He’d almost rather go alone than with some stranger. _Especially_ one picked out by his sister’s boyfriend. That fucking Christmas gift last year was bad enough. (A padded, velvet smoking jacket. Really? Who was he, Lucius Malfoy?) Ron couldn’t imagine what kind of person Blaise would choose for him. 

But mostly, he’d rather not go at all. It’d been alright when he was going with Harry. He’d be with his best mate, eat some fancy food, and chat up some quidditch players. Now he’d be surrounded by couples, forced to make small talk with someone he’d never met, and he wouldn’t be at all surprised if Blaise chose someone solely to torture him. Gotta love that Slytherin sense of humor. Apparently, Ginny did. And Harry, too.

“You absolutely will not.” Ginny leaned toward him, hands on her hips and very forcibly reminding him of their mother. “Those tickets weren’t free, you know. I had to pay for them.”

“So the League doesn’t even let their own players go to this quidditch gala for free?”

“Mine was free and Blaise as my plus one was free. But Bill and Fleur’s were not. And yours weren’t. You’re going. I’ll see you at eight. We’re all meeting there.”

And then she disapparated in a swirl of her floral skirt.

Ron knocked his head back against the tree trunk. It was really too hot for this.

***

Ginny stumbled as she appeared with a sharp crack in front of a rusty, wrought iron gate. She wasn’t used to apparating in heels. She wasn’t used to wearing heels at all, really. She was a flats and trainers sort of girl. Blaise’s arm wrapping around her as he apparated next to her was the only thing that kept her from face planting on the pavement.

“Thanks,” she muttered, wiping the sweat from the back of her neck and batting Blaise’s hand away. Even as dusk settled around them, it was still too fucking hot.

“Okay, Gin?” 

Bill’s mouth was twitching as he spoke, trying not to laugh. Fleur hadn’t bothered hiding her giggle. Ginny liked her well enough these days, but sometimes she was still _Phlegm_. 

“I’ll live,” said Ginny. She looked around. The area in front of the gate was deserted aside from the four of them. There were a few couples lingering on the footpath and in the garden beyond the gate. It was ten to eight; most everyone had probably already gone into the ballroom. “Ron not shown up yet?”

“Haven’t seen him,” Bill replied. “Didn’t think he was still coming. It sounded like he was trying to skip out this morning.”

Ginny’s lips twisted into a smile. “He and I had a chat about that already. He’ll be here.”

“He better be,” Blaise said. “I went through the trouble of finding him a date.”

Ginny let out a short laugh and looped her arm through Blaise’s. She was sure he did go through a lot of trouble - trouble finding the most outrageous person he knew. And he wouldn’t tell her who it was, which meant she almost certainly had met this mystery person before.

At exactly eight, Ron apparated around the corner and hurried to meet them. His robes were wrinkled. He was smoothing his hands out over the front, but it wasn’t helping. It looked like he’d just thrown them on and ran a comb through his hair five minutes before apparating. Fleur curled her lip and aimed a starching charm at him.

“I’m not late,” Ron said.

“Barely.” Ginny tapped the gate with her wand and gritted out the password: _Falmouth Falcons_. The reigning league champions. And she’d never hear the end of it tonight. Their keeper, Elena Pryce, would be sure to corner her at some point to gloat. What a nightmare.

She marched her boyfriend and her brothers and her sister-in-law up the path and into the old manor house renovated specifically to host the magical community’s biggest and most formal events. Ginny just hoped one of the Prophet’s photographers hadn’t caught her near-fall earlier. She was sure there were at least a few of them prowling around, hoping to make quick galleon from all these quidditch stars gathered in one place.

As they stepped into the foyer, Ginny heard Ron ask Blaise, “Where’s my date? I thought you’d found someone for me.”

“He’s going to be a few minutes late. He told me he had a previous engagement,” Blaise’s deep voice responded.

“Is he going to be able to get in if he’s not with us?” Ginny questioned, turning round.

“Yes. I gave him the password and sent his name to the Department of Magical Games and Sports. He’s on the list.”

The ballroom was decorated in the colors of the Falcons, dark gray and white. It looked bleak, like a deathday party. There was a small stage set up at the head of the room and the sides were lined with circular tables, most of which were already taken. Ginny hadn’t thought to look at the seating arrangement before arriving, so they spent a few minutes picking through the remaining tables to find theirs. Or well, the others did. Ginny was caught every way she turned by teammates and acquaintances from rival teams, saying hello and making introductions to their partners and friends.

She only narrowly dodged Pryce’s heckling when Bill called from the other side of the room. “I’ve got ours here!” He was standing by an empty table near the front and holding up a small card with his name written in curling calligraphy. They each had a card of their own in front of their place setting.

Ron picked up the sixth card as Ginny approached. “Who the fuck is Cornucopia McLaggen?”

“Cornucopia?” Blaise mumbled to himself, coming to stand behind Ginny and placing his hands on either side of her waist. “Someone’s Spell-Write Quill must not be working properly.”

“Couldn’t possibly be yours?” Ginny said out of the corner of her mouth.

And it was fascinating, really, watching the dawning horror slowly overtake Ron’s face. He looked up at Ginny and then to Blaise, eyes pleading. “No. No, it’s not… It’s not him, right?”

Ginny could feel Blaise’s chest heaving against her back, like he was struggling to conceal his laughter. But his expression showed none of the strain. 

“I thought you’d get along,” he said, sounding very sincere indeed. Slytherin. “Thought you’d have a lot in common. He was in Gryffindor.”

“Yeah, he was in Gryffindor, but he’s fucking obnoxious!” Ron all but shouted.

“Can’t tell the difference.” Blaise shrugged. ”All you Gryffindors are obnoxious to me.”

Ginny gently dug her elbow in his side. “Watch it.”

“And you, of course, are the most wonderfully obnoxious of all.” He swooped down and planted a kiss on her temple. She giggled and reached her hands up behind her to wrap around the back of Blaise’s neck.

Ron groaned and collapsed into his chair. “I knew I shouldn’t’ve come.”

Ginny detangled herself from Blaise and sat down in her own chair. She wanted to feel bad for Ron, but she was morbidly excited to see how this night would play out. Her interactions with McLaggen during Hogwarts hadn’t been very many, but they were memorable for all the wrong reasons. Maybe his presence would repel all the people she was trying to avoid. His presence certainly would have repelled _her_ if she had a choice to sit elsewhere. 

A shiver went down Ginny’s spine as a magically enhanced hush fell over the room. The League Chairman stepped onto the stage to polite applause, pointed his wand to his throat, and began to speak, his voice reverberating through the room. Ginny tuned him out. It was always the same at these things. ' _Thank you for coming out tonight_ ’, a stiff joke and forced laughter, faux positivity for the upcoming season, blah blah blah. Nothing she cared to hear. 

She glanced around the table. Ron still looked miserable, all slumped down in his chair, rumpling his robes and completely negating the effects of Fleur’s charm from earlier. Bill was picking at his nails, and Fleur looked like she’d rather be anywhere else, which was tough luck because no one forced her to be here. Blaise wasn’t paying attention to the Chairman, either; he was humming along to what Ginny strongly suspected to be a Celestina Warbeck song - he’d been spending far too much time at the Burrow around her mother lately - and tapping his fingers to the rhythm against Ginny’s thigh.

Awards were next. It was a quick thing, mostly a popularity contest. Ginny won _Player’s Choice - Best Chaser_ (she’d always been popular), and as she stepped onto the stage to collect, the doors in the back creaked open. Because this _would_ be the moment McLaggen decided to show up. He was really making a show of it, turning his head this way and that, and pointing exaggeratedly when Blaise waved him over. His shoes clacked across the ballroom floor while Ginny gave a quick few words to accept her award.

McLaggen settled in his place between Ron and Blaise and then whispered so loudly Ginny could hear him from up on the stage, “Did I miss anything?” Merlin only knew what sort of aural damage he could do with a _sonorus_.

The Chairman wrung Ginny’s hand a little too tightly and ushered her off stage to bring up the next person. Bill, and even Fleur, congratulated her as she came back to the table. 

“Ginny!” McLaggen said, cheeks dimpling. He tilted his chair back on two legs, knocking into the bloke sitting at the table behind him. “I was just telling Ron here how nice it was to see him again.”

Ron looked like he thought it was anything but nice and, perhaps, it was actually second only to You Know Who suddenly returning from the dead, starkers in the middle of the dance floor.

Ginny opened her mouth, intending to say it was nice to see McLaggen again as well - it was automatic, manners drilled into her since childhood - but snapped it shut before the lie could escape. She, instead, contorted her lips into what was roughly equivalent to a smile and sat down. Not to let her out of the interaction so easily, McLaggen tossed an arm across the back of Ron’s chair and leaned well into Blaise’s personal space to get closer to her.

“I saw your match against the Arrows last month,” he said, seriously. Ginny tried to smile again, but she was sure it looked more like she’d fractured a rib. Wasn’t McLaggen supposed to be torturing Ron, not her? McLaggen was like a blast-ended skrewt - indiscriminately unpleasant - and Blaise had set him loose on them all. “I think the whole League, but especially you, needs to step up. Stop being afraid of drawing fouls. I’d be happy to come to one of your practices and show you some good techniques. I’m assuming you’ll be back to practicing on Monday? You’ll need at least a week before you really catch on. Even someone like Gwenog Jones could benefit from this.”

Dinner appeared on their table at the exact right moment, and Ginny poured herself a generous glass of wine.

***

Bill was a mild sort of person. He got on with most everyone, took things in stride. He was prefect then Head Boy back in Hogwarts, and he was team leader for his unit now. He knew how to deal with difficult people, and he could diffuse almost any situation.

But even he had his limits.

“Now you work with dragons, is that right?” McLaggen said to him from just beyond the limit.

“Cursebreaker. Same as five minutes ago, when I first told you.” Fleur placed her hand over his under the table. He’d been clenching it against his thigh so hard he’d probably left bruises. He hadn’t even realized. It was a strange reversal of their roles; usually, he was the one holding _her_ back.

“Right, right.” McLaggen waved him off as if the difference between the two careers was insignificant. Bill would have thought he was doing this all on purpose, but he didn’t think there was room enough in McLaggen’s head for that kind of subtlety. What, with all that ego. McLaggen targeted Blaise next. “You’re the one who does dragons, then?”

“No, I think that’s Harry,” Ron mumbled under his breath, and Bill nearly choked on the forkful of roast he’d just brought to his mouth.

“I don’t,” Blaise said to McLaggen. “I broker deals for rare and foreign potion ingredients.”

“Hang on.” Ron held his hand in the air. “Ginny said you knew him from work and that’s how you set him up with me.”

“I do. I know him from a place of work. Not necessarily mine.”

“You m-”

Blaise cut Ron off, addressing McLaggen. “So, Colander - may I call you Colander?”

“It’s Cormac.”

“Yes, is that not what I said?”

Fleur snorted into her serviette. At least she was enjoying herself. The same couldn’t be said for her regarding her meal. She’d barely picked at it. She preferred to say she had a selective palate, which Bill learned soon after starting to date her, couldn’t be further from the truth. She could eat most anything, but snubbing most traditional British foods was a matter of principle for her. And also, Bill thought, she took a sort of pleasure from irritating his mother, who considered Fleur’s pickiness a personal insult.

“If I may interrupt,” said Fleur, looking between Blaise and McLaggen. “How do the two of you know each other?”

McLaggen grinned at her and leaned toward her across the table, nearly sending Ron’s dinner plate tumbling into his lap. “I saw him in the Quidditch shop on Diagon. He looked like he was having trouble differentiating all the regulation size Quaffle designs. Thought I’d help the poor bloke out.”

Blaise sipped his wine and ignored Ginny tickling him in the ribs.

“And it turned out, he knew me from Hogwarts,” McLaggen continued. “I was quite popular, you see. I played quidditch for Gryffindor with Harry Potter. And he wasn’t nearly as good as all the fuss made about him. Horrible captain. Could barely keep the team together.”

Ginny coughed. “Wasn’t it you who knocked Harry off his broom with one of the Beater’s bats during a match?”

“Hm?” McLaggen hummed pleasantly. “Oh, I can’t recall. Potter was always falling off his broom. Do you remember back in, ah, what was it? My fourth year? Dumbledore had to save him.”

Bill felt the table jerk and then heard the tinkle of glass. Best he could figure, Ron had kicked one of the table legs - probably meaning to hit _McLaggen_ \- knocking over his wine glass. The deep red of the wine rapidly spread across the linen tablecloth.

McLaggen drew his wand. “ _Evanesco_. Careful, now.” He caressed Ron’s jawline, and splotchy red rapidly spread across Ron’s face. Fleur hid her giggle behind her napkin again. “Where was I? Meeting Zabini, yes. He remembered me from Hogwarts, although, I can’t say I knew anything of him. He told me about Ginny and the gala and how Ron, here, was in desperate shape. I just couldn’t refuse.”

The red of Ron’s face was starting to turn green. McLaggen either didn’t care or didn’t notice. Bill would place his bet on a mixture of both. 

“So kind of you,” Ginny smirked.

“Yes. I dated Hermione Granger in school and here I am with Ron Weasley. I suppose now I’ll have to date Harry Potter - for the whole set.” He turned quickly to Ron and draped his arm around his shoulders. “But only if it doesn’t work out between us, of course.”

Ron looked as if he’d like nothing more than to receive an _AK_ to the head, and Bill wanted to save his baby brother. Really, he did. But he wasn’t about to turn the wand back on him. Bill clasped his hands in his lap and waited for dessert. 

***

The evening was even less appealing than she anticipated. And Fleur had kept her expectations low. The food was bland as was most British cuisine, and the dessert was barely passable. However, the conversation was interesting at times, if not infuriating. Ginny’s boyfriend had invited a gremlin to dine with them.

Fleur took Bill’s hand and led him to the ballroom floor the moment the music started. The League had hired a live band to play - the one truly nice thing about the night thus far. It was nice to close her eyes and allow herself to sway and spin and be held close by her husband. They didn’t often get nights out together since the children were born. Molly was more than eager to look after them, but she and Fleur had different and sometimes conflicting opinions on parenting. Fleur didn’t care to leave them in her influence any longer than necessary.

The music grew softer now, slower. The musicians drew their bows slowly across the strings of their instruments. Fleur wrapped one arm around the back of Bill’s neck and the other snug around his waist. His eyes were closed, but his smile was just for her.

“May I cut in?”

And now the gremlin wanted to dance with her.

She wasn’t sure why he asked. He’d already stuck his hand out and nearly wedged himself between them. Bill broke away from her, but Fleur held onto the sleeve of his robes. She frowned.

“Coriander, is it?”

The gremlin’s smile tightened unpleasantly. “Cormac. Please.”

“Yes, that. I am dancing with my husband and no other tonight. Perhaps, Ron would care to dance with you. He is your date.” 

“He’s not much of a dancer, unfortunately. No amount of my begging could convince him.” He threw a wink over his shoulder at Ron. “But I’m quite good. I’m sure you saw me at the Yule Ball. I considered dancing with you then, but I’d already had so many people ask me for a dance. Didn’t want to make any of them jealous.”

“Oh, I don’t think you could have done that.”

“You’ll dance with me now, then?” He held his hand out to her as if she’d already agreed. As if her husband wasn’t standing beside her with his hand on her lower back.

“No.” She shooed him back over to Ron at the table. Fleur’s heart went out to her youngest brother-in-law, but this was his (and possibly Blaise’s) problem to deal with.

Cognac looked as if he was going to persist, but Ginny and Blaise twirled past them then, in a flurry of powder blue and gold dress robes. They weren’t keeping with the music at all, but rather, a rhythm of their own. Fleur beckoned her husband to follow them.

The food was unpalatable and the company worse. Fleur had to salvage what she could of the night.

***

Blaise was less confident in his plan at the end of the night than he had been initially. He thought he’d have a bit of fun with Ron. He hadn’t accounted for McLaggen’s particular ability to determine the exact thing to say to irritate those around him most. It was a gift. And a very powerful one at that.

McLaggen was speaking with some of the Magpies’ players now, probably telling them how best to crack the skull of a teammate with a stolen Beater’s bat. As a favor to Ginny, and certainly not to the Magpies’ star Chaser Amari Tate who seemed to be growing more and more desperate for an escape route by the second, Blaise simply inclined his head in farewell. The Magpies were Ginny’s least favorite team in the League, right after the Falcons, and she would be delighted to know they were currently being ‘advised’ the same as she had been all night. Perhaps, this would make up for his grave error in judgement.

“All ready to go?” Blaise announced once he’d made it back to the others.

“Almost.” Ginny crouched down on her knees, squinting in the darkness under the tablecloth. “Think I’ve lost my purse.”

“No, I’ve got it.” Blaise patted his robes pocket. Praise be to Merlin for Undetectable Extension Charms.

Ginny whipped around. “I can’t believe I bought robes without pockets!” she said furiously, digging her hand into his pocket and retrieving her purse. “I can’t believe they make robes without pockets! And as much as these cost. Never again.”

“Get Mum to sew some in,” suggested Ron.

“Can you imagine? Do you remember when she tried to patch my Harpies robes? And those are meant to be tough.”

“I am in agreement with Ginny. Such an addition would ruin the fabric,” Fleur sniffed. 

They weren’t the first ones to leave. The band had packed up some time ago, but plenty of people were still lingering, even those not trapped in conversation by McLaggen. The heat was stifling still as they stepped out into the starlight-strewn garden.

“Is McLaggen coming?” asked Ginny, looking behind them.

“Oh, no. Thought I’d let him stay here,” Ron said, rather more cheerfully than Blaise would have expected. 

Blaise sighed in a dramatic fashion. “I suppose that’s it for you and ol’ Cornucopia.”

“You’d think, right?” Ron’s grin was so wide it could only be described as ‘I’d like a punch in the face, please’.

“I’m sorry?” Blaise said at the same time as Ginny and Bill said, “What?”

“Well, it wasn’t so bad, really. He said just as much to me as he did everyone else. I figure I’ll take him out to the Leaky with Harry and Malfoy. About time I’ve paid Harry back for making me put up with the amazing bouncing ferret for so long.” Ron’s smile widened impossibly further. “And I’m dying to know what Malfoy’s reaction will be if McLaggen says the thing about dating all three of us for the whole set again. Percy’s next. For making me sit through that seminar on Ministry regulated cauldron ladles. Then I think I’ll take him round to the Burrow.”

Ginny pinched Blaise hard on the upper arm. Oh yes, he’d definitely miscalculated. How was he to expect Ron would weaponize McLaggen? That was a Slytherin move if he saw one. Perhaps, he should warn Draco. 

He grimaced and grabbed hold of Ginny’s pocketless robes as she turned on the spot and disapparated them.


End file.
